Happenstance
by Espiritu
Summary: Chance brought them together. Circumstances made them friends. Will fortune be on their side when the fickle finger of fate leaves them in a desperate situation? Sheppard McKay friendship. McKay POV. COMPLETE
1. Into The Fire

Title: Happenstance  
Author: Espiritu  
Rating: M  
Category: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
Spoilers: Season One. Set sometime during Season Two after Siege III and before Runner.  
Summary: Chance brought them together. Circumstances made them friends. Will fortune be on their side when the fickle finger of fate leaves them in a desperate situation? Sheppard/McKay friendship.  
Author Notes: I think this plot bunny was fueled by countless cups of Starbucks vanilla lattes. So blame it on caffeine overload. Gotta love Vancouver--the coffee mecca of North America.  
Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Stargate Atlantis except some great memories and cool souvenirs from a once-in-a-lifetime set visit. Everything else is still owned by Sony, MGM, and the SciFi Channel no matter how I wish it to be otherwise. 

Happenstance

Chapter 1: Into the Fire

"Colonel, you need to be still. If you keep moving, you'll start to bleed again. And quite frankly, I don't handle the sight of blood too well." I admonished not quite able to hide the worry in my tone.

"We can't stay here, McKay." Sheppard protested weakly as he tried to sit up.

I pushed against the colonel's shoulders, easing him back down against the rocky outcrop that temporarily offered shelter. We had been exploring the ruins of an Ancient outpost on M5J-346 when we had unexpectedly encountered a few of the local inhabitants. Judging from the sudden barrage of bullets that the small group of men had fired in our direction, the planet's population did not take kindly to intruders to their homeworld, friendly or otherwise. Like oh so many so-called civilized people we encounter in this part of the universe, their first instinct appeared to be shoot first and ask questions later. Just once, it would be nice to meet up with the Pegasus equivalent of the Welcome Wagon. Just one damn time.

"I mean it, Colonel! If you start bleeding again, I am not sure I'll be able to stop it this time. Our field packs do not include surgical equipment or a staff to use them. I'm it for medical help for the time being, and I'm not trained to handle serious trauma. Where's Carson and his bag of Highland voodoo tricks when you need him?" I muttered as I rechecked the pressure bandage I had hurriedly applied to the colonel's side.

As fate would have it, the bullet had managed to enter midway down Sheppard's torso into the narrow strip of side flesh not protected by the flak vest. If the colonel hadn't been so intent on pushing me out of harm's way, the alien projectile might have missed him entirely or lodged harmlessly within the bullet-stopping Kevlar. But true to his overprotective, self-sacrificing, guard dog nature, Sheppard dove into the line of fire when one of the hostile natives took aim at me. He managed to take out the shooter, but not before getting hit with a bullet himself.

"You're doing fine, McKay. Just help me get back to the puddle jumper so I can get us home." Sheppard grimaced in pain as he leaned his head against the cool, dusty rock face of the crumbling remains of an Ancient temple wall.

"I don't think you're in any condition to fly the jumper, let alone walk the whole way back to it." I said stating what should have been obvious to anyone with a modicum of functioning gray matter in his skull. But I was talking to Sheppard after all, and the man had an alarming tendency to act first and think later.

"Fine. Get us back to the jumper, and I'll let you fly it." Sheppard managed to hiss out.

"I don't think you really have a choice in the matter, Colonel. Considering the current circumstances, I am your only ticket home." I replied with a hint of smugness.

"Just make sure you fly straight this time, McKay. I don't think I can any handle long, round-about detours right now." The colonel barely wheezed the words out.

"If you're referring to your famed Sheppardesque shortcuts, have no fear, Colonel. Have no fear indeed. Unlike you, I know how to plot the quickest route from point A to point B." I shot back with as much sarcasm as I could muster under the circumstances.

He simply closed his eyes and nodded weakly as he sat slumped against the wall. His lack of a quick retort and his tightly clenched jaw spoke volumes about the severity of his injury. Granted, his sardonic quips couldn't hope to compete with my brilliant repartee, but if Sheppard wasn't contributing to our normal verbal sparring matches, something was seriously wrong. He was hurting and hurting bad. I reached into the pockets of my vest and dug out an ampoule of morphine from the field kit, wishing it were a larger, more potent dose. But a field dose was better than nothing and would take the edge off the pain until we reached the jumper. Silently thanking that irascible Scottish Kildare for insisting every offworld team learn basic first aid skills, I injected the morphine and adjusted the pressure bandage covering the jagged wound that was still seeping blood despite my best efforts. The colonel's mouth quirked up slightly in gratitude as the drug coursing through his veins took effect and some of the tenseness in his jaw eased.

Sheppard's breathing was becoming alarmingly raspy and labored, leading me to strongly suspect the bullet was lodged in the colonel's lung. As if it couldn't get any worse. Right about now I wished we had taken another team member with us on this mission. Teyla was on temporary medical leave due to a torn Achilles tendon, and Über Ford had disappeared to parts unknown after the siege by the Wraith on Atlantis. Sheppard had wanted to take a couple of marines along, but I had insisted that only the two of us were needed to take readings and check out any possible Ancient relics left behind. Yes, I had been quite adamant that this little excursion would only require the presence of one know-it-all head scientist and his sidekick colonel. I had successfully argued that the rest of the military and scientific personnel were needed on clean-up detail around our battled-scarred city. I had ranted and raved until I had finally convinced Sheppard that the two of us could more than handle a simple scientific outing to what we thought was an uninhabited planet. I was so eager to get my hands on more Ancient doodads that I neglected to confirm the validity of the earlier, and what were ultimately erroneous, reports concerning this deceptive little backwater of a world. I had never been so wrong.

Now I was cursing to myself over my incredibly stupid lack of foresight and my sheer vainglorious arrogance that got us into this predicament. Expecting an easy reconnaissance of an Ancient site, we instead found ourselves in the midst of a firefight from unknown assailants. Sheppard had managed to kill two of the four men who launched the surprise attack on us, and I seriously wounded a third. The fourth decided to flee the scene after seeing his cronies fall, but it was only a matter of time before he came back with reinforcements. Fate was a fickle bitch that never cut us any slack in this galaxy. We still had to find our way back to the puddle jumper through a mile of rough terrain with Sheppard seriously wounded and barely able to stay conscious. Not to mention his current propensity for bleeding profusely. No problem. So what that this planet was not close to a convenient stargate, leaving us with several hours of flight time before we made it back to Atlantis? Piece of cake. I lived and breathed for such challenges. Now if I could just keep the colonel living and breathing until Carson could work his magic and put the man back to rights. But hey, wasn't I the answer man? Wasn't I the one who could fix anything? Wasn't I the one who could pull miracles out of my ass at a moment's notice? So why did I feel that this time lady luck was about to thumb her capricious nose at the likes of us?

But I put aside any nagging doubts for the moment. Didn't Sheppard tell me once that you should never let them see you sweat? Easier said than done I say. Yet, I had to admit the idea had merit. Not that I would ever let this cocky, hero-wannabe flyboy know that I actually agreed with him on anything. So I pushed aside my fears and took matters into my own hands. Literally. Sliding my arms under Sheppard's, I hoisted him up, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, grabbed hold of his waist, and got us under way in a manner of speaking. To say we were walking was to use the term loosely. To say it was more like two Siamese twins stumbling drunkenly would have been an understatement. Too weak to stand completely upright, the colonel leaned heavily against me, his near deadweight causing me to lurch sideways with each agonizing step. It may not have been the most efficient means of transportation, but it covered ground and put us closer to escaping this nightmarish hellhole.

We continued half hobbling, half staggering along as we left the vicinity of the temple complex and headed back into the nearby forest. I hoped that the dense strand of trees would offer some shelter from any more pursuing locals along with giving us a more direct route back to the puddle jumper. We had been on the move for somewhere close to twenty minutes when I felt Sheppard slump further into my shoulder just before I heard him gasp in pain. His knees buckled suddenly as I came to a halt, forcing me to ease him to the ground.

"McKay...gotta stop." He managed to rasp as he struggled to take another ragged breath. The waxy, gray pallor of his face gave the zombies from 'Night of the Living Dead' a run for their money.

"Colonel? We're almost there. Just hang on, we've not much further to go."

Fool's words I know. Usually I am what Sheppard likes to term optimistically challenged, but I could be as positive as the next guy. Truly I could. I was willing to take a lesson from Sheppard's 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' school of thought. I was fully prepared to take to heart a page out of his manual 'The Optimist's Guide for the Hopelessly Screwed'. I would wade through the knee-deep shit we currently found ourselves in with a smile on my face. Well, a forced, tight-lipped smile sure, but a smile nonetheless. Call me Mr. Happy Fucking Go Lucky.

Sheppard continued to pant painfully as if he were running the last leg of a 26K marathon. He was sucking in mouthfuls of air as if he were fighting for his life and losing the battle. Damn him, he'd better not give up on me. Not if he knew what was good for him. I would be hard-pressed to find another friend like him. He was one of the rare individuals who had disregarded my abrasive and prickly personality right from the get go. Not only did he not seem to be offended or put off by it, he actually seemed to enjoy it. Imagine that! People like that aren't easy to find in my world. So when someone comes along that can give back snark as good as he gets...well in my book, he's a keeper. I am sure most people found ours an unlikely friendship. Hell, I even thought that on occasion. It was a friendship that started by chance, grew by circumstance, and flourished under the most unusual of conditions. I was not going to let him die on me now. Not now. Not ever. I so was not about to go to all the work of breaking in another team leader. I didn't need that kind of headache. Not in a million years. The leader I had was enough of a headache already thank you very much. Not enough Tylenol in the infirmary to quell that pain in the head as I was fond of telling him.

I put my hand against Sheppard's shoulder as he inhaled sharply before looking up at me with eyes glassy with pain and a pale face clammy and slick with sweat. His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper when he finally spoke.

"McKay. I'm not gonna make it. I can't go any further."

I was angered that he was giving up so easily. That wasn't the John Sheppard I knew. Not by a long shot. "Oh no you don't, Colonel. You are not, I repeat, not checking out of the party early. Oh, no. No. No. Don't even think it!" I was ready to slap him up the side of that foolish head of his.

"And what, miss out on all this fun? Wouldn't dream of it normally, but my body's telling me it has other ideas on the matter." He uttered with almost weary resignation, pausing between each word to draw in a rattling breath.

'Well, don't listen to it. It obviously doesn't know what it is talking about. I'm getting out of here, and you're coming with me. There'll be no further argument about it either. So save your breath, do us both a favor, and shut the hell up."

He decided to do more than that. I no sooner finished reprimanding him than when he had the unmitigated gall to lose consciousness. Right then and there. His eyes rolled back in his head a la Linda Blair, and he sank into oblivion. At first I was alarmed by his motionless form, until a quick check for a pulse assured me he was still alive. At least for the moment. But, I had to make haste to get us to the jumper and back to Atlantis, or he wouldn't be much longer. Leave it to him to stick me with all the work. Far be it for Lt. Colonel John Sheppard to offer a little assistance to me here in getting us on the move. Nope, he took it upon himself to pass out and thus take his lazy self out of the equation. Asshole incarnate.

Fine. So be it. The inconsiderate bastard was going to force me to break my back in order to save his sorry ass. There was no other recourse. I would have to carry him the rest of the way. It was not something I looked forward to. He might have looked wiry as whipcord, but the man was all lean muscle and weighed a ton. I grunted with the effort it took to haul him up and sling him over my shoulder into a classic fireman's carry. I grunted and staggered I admit, but I still pulled it off using sheer determination to fuel my strength.

I thought the past year in the field had whipped me into better condition than I had ever been before. I was convinced the weeks of goon training with Sheppard had built my muscles as it trimmed my waistline. I believed the days tramping across alien planets had strengthened me. I deluded myself into thinking the hours running from the Wraith had toughened me. Was I ever mistaken. Yes, my being wrong seemed to be the general theme of this mission. The great Dr. Rodney McKay was most definitely wrong. I was not in the shape I thought I was. If I were, I wouldn't be sweating like a pig and huffing and puffing like the big, bad wolf. Somehow though, I found it in me to keep plodding though the woods. Hampered by thickets and underbrush whipping against my ankles, I continued on, quivering knees threatening to give out under the strain, my back screaming in protest against the burden it carried. But I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. If I did, Sheppard would be a dead man. That was something I just would not accept for as long as I lived.

We finally made it to the edge of the forest. The clearing where we had parked the jumper was in my direct line of sight. Needing to take a breather, I stopped briefly and slid the colonel's unconscious body down onto the ground. Standing back up, I stretched and popped several vertebrae back into alignment as I mentally calculated the remaining distance to the jumper. All we had to do was get our asses across the open patch of grass in front of us, and we were home free. No sweat. I could do this. Taking a deep breath, I stooped down and scooped the colonel back up over my aching shoulders.

Fate, however, decided to spit one last time in our proverbial eyes. We had just reached the back hatch of the jumper, and I once again had carefully set Sheppard down onto the grass to free my hands to operate the hatch controls. I don't know if it was the sudden moan coming from the wounded man on the ground a few feet away from me or the distinctive sound of a weapon being cocked that first caught my attention. Dropping my hand from the control panel, I turned slowly around to see a vaguely familiar man standing over the now semi-conscious Sheppard. That fourth native that had run screaming from his fallen comrades? Well, he was back and back with a vengeance.

God damn it! I swore under my breath. Why couldn't we ever catch a break? Why did it seem we were always perpetually screwed? Was it just bad luck? Bad karma? What?

Pointing his weapon at me, the irate thug flashed a malicious grin and ordered me to step away from the jumper. At least I think that is what he said. Not understanding the language he was speaking, I raised my hands slowly, nodded like the village idiot, and backed away from the control panel. My mind was racing as I feverishly tried to think of a way to get us out of this latest predicament.

"Stepping away. I'm stepping away. See, feet moving. Moving away." I hoped my actions if not my words would reassure him I was complying with his wishes and buy me enough time to formulate a plan.

I guess I either did not move fast enough or he mistook my actions as hostile intent. He suddenly waved the gun at Sheppard while a steady stream of incomprehensible shouts bellowed from his mouth. The commotion was loud enough to wake the dead, or at least the almost dead, because the colonel began to stir as the noise penetrated the fog of his unconsciousness. Hearing the colonel's movements, the gunman decided to substantiate his threat by kicking Sheppard furiously in the ribcage. The colonel cried out in agony at the vicious assault as he curled his body into a fetal position to escape further attack.

Sheppard's outcry at the savage treatment made my blood boil and caused my anger to hotly erupt like Mount Vesuvius. Spewing forth with a spat of invectives, I vented in rage and frustration at the turn of events, blindly ignoring the fact that the lowlife was still holding a gun on us.

"Get the hell away from him you filthy, homicidal maniac! He's already been shot once today. Enough is enough! Do you hear me? We are no threat to you or your freaking fellow Neanderthals. Just go back to your cave or whatever primordial swamp spawned you, and let us go in peace."

As I launched my verbal attack, he stopped kicking Sheppard and turned back towards me with an evil leer. Raising his arm, he pointed his gun directly at my chest. Freezing in fear, I involuntarily squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled the trigger. My ears blocked out the explosive sounds of weapon discharge as I mentally prepared myself for my untimely death. Surprised to not feel the impact of the bullet tearing into my flesh, I opened my eyes and looked first at my midsection, shocked at the lack of blood or injuries. Surely he could not have missed at such close range. I patted along my body to assure myself of the absence of any gunshot wound. As my mind was still trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened, I turned my head and saw our attacker lying dead face down in the grass. A single bullet hole surrounded by a wet, red splatter was centered over his back. I looked up from the fallen enemy at my feet to see Sheppard sitting up in the grass, one hand grasping the blood-stained bandage at his side, the other pointing a still-smoking gun at the dead man.

"Nobody tries to kill one of my geeks and lives to tell about it." He slurred out a weak growl before flopping heavily back to the ground, his nine millimeter dropping from a hand gone limp.

I rushed over to where he had collapsed, concerned by the spreading splotch of fresh blood along his flank. I thought he had been pale before, but now his face was stark white with a shocking bluish tinge creeping onto his lips. The irregular breaths he did manage to take were woefully inadequate in getting air to his oxygen-deprived lungs. His pain-filled eyes met my terrified ones while his throat bobbed up and down as his mouth struggled to form words.

Gulping in a mouthful of air, he finally managed to gasp faintly. "Christ almighty, that hurt."

He was lying flat on his back, rolling slowly in an effort to stop the suffering, one hand clutched spasmodically at his injured side. I grabbed his shoulder and called out to him.

"Colonel! Are you alright? John! Hang on, I'm going to get us home. Stick with me!"

"Like glue, McKay." His muffled, choked reply was cut short by a bout of prolonged coughing that dissolved into fit of agonized retching as he lay on his side. Turning him back over, I noticed flecks of bright red blood staining his teeth and lips as he grimaced in pain, his eyes half open and his face drawn and pinched. Oh God! Not good. This was so not good.

"Don't you dare die on me, Sheppard. Don't. You. Dare. You even think about leaving the here and now, I will track down your sorry ass and haul it back to the land of the living! There is no galaxy in the universe where you can run and hide from the wrath of Rodney McKay. Do you hear me, John?" I gripped his arm tightly as I spoke, shaking him gently in the hopes of instilling some strength into his weakening body.

I didn't give him a chance to respond to my pleas or threats. Standing up, I slammed my hand onto the hatch controls to open the back of the jumper. Grabbing him under the arms, I half dragged, half carried his barely conscious form up the ramp into the rear compartment of the ship, all the while praying we'd get back to Atlantis in time.

(TBC)


	2. A Wing and a Prayer

Happenstance

Chapter 2: A Wing and a Prayer

After dragging Colonel Sheppard into the puddle jumper, I managed to ease him down along one of the side benches in the rear compartment. Digging out the medical kit from the overhead storage bin, I pulled out the portable oxygen tank and mask along with fresh bandages, more painkillers, and an emergency blanket. Placing the mask over his mouth and nose, I adjusted the air valve on the tank until the hiss in the tubing assured me the oxygen was flowing. Satisfied that a measure of color was returning to the injured man's face, I turned my attention to starting an IV. As I jabbed the needle into his arm, I was rewarded with only a mild flinch against the pinprick instead of the normal Sheppard protests I would have expected. Definitely a sign that much was amiss with the colonel. He lay there only half aware of his surroundings, intermittent, soft moans the only indication he was still semi-lucid. I tucked the blanket around him to keep him warm and ward off shock as I finished settling him in for the long flight home.

Rising up, I rushed to the front of the jumper and took a seat in the pilot's chair. Normally, I jumped at every opportunity I got to hone my piloting skills. But now, I worried that my fledging mastery of the craft left much to be desired when it came to flying in the face of such a grave emergency. Hoping my talents were up to the task, I eased back on the controls and got us quickly under way. Although the jumper did not respond to my touch as deftly as it did with John's, the ship soared up into the sky without hesitation, pulling away from the planet with a thrust of its powerful engines.

Weak as he was, Sheppard somehow found enough energy to still be a back seat driver and criticize my less than stellar take-off. He had to have temporarily removed the oxygen mask for his feeble voice to be heard over the whine of the naquadah turbines.

"Jesus, McKay. Remind me to revoke your learner's permit."

Okay, I might have skimmed the tops of some trees in my haste to leave this wretched world. But please. What harm could a few spindly branches do against Ancient, space-worthy alloys? The damage would be infinitesimal, I assure you. I am, after all, the resident expert on Ancient technology among countless other things. What are a few dents and scratches when a friend's life was on the line? If getting Sheppard back to Atlantis as soon as humanly possible meant I would be returning his jumper a little worse for wear, then so be it. I was willing to deal with the consequences. I would listen to him bitch about the damage I caused to his flying 'baby' later when we were back safe and sound. In fact, I was counting on it. Damn pigheaded pilots and their ridiculous attachment to mere machines. If they were computers, I could understand it. But planes? Give me a break.

"Ah, sorry, Colonel. Just a little unexpected crosswind. Nothing to worry about." I called gamely back to him as I concentrated on coaxing more velocity out of the rapidly accelerating spaceship. Surely the Ancients had foreseen the need for speed and designed these things to go a little faster.

"Crosswind my ass." He softly muttered before falling quiet.

I would have been more concerned by his silence, but the raspy sounds of his breathing filtered up to the cockpit, assuring me he was still alive, just not exactly kicking at the moment. I glanced over my shoulder, nevertheless, to check that he was holding his own as best as he was able under these conditions. I noticed at least before he drifted off again, he had had the presence of mind to reposition the mask over his face. It was a small thing to be thankful for, but I was willing to take anything I could get for the time being. Anything. Just anything at all I could grab onto to convince myself that my best friend would get through this would do for now.

A soon as I had cleared the planet's atmosphere and had plotted a course for home, I patched in a comm link to our fair city to notify Carson to be ready for a medical emergency.

"Atlantis. Come in. This is Jumper One. How do you read me?" I must say I really was getting the hang of this space pilot parlance.

"Jumper One. This is Atlantis. We read you loud and clear. What is your status?" Elizabeth's familiar voice came through the console speakers, filling the cockpit with a welcome sound.

"Oh, Elizabeth. Thank God you can hear me. This is Rodney. We have a medical emergency."

Elizabeth was not completely able to disguise the apprehension in her voice as she answered. "We copy that Jumper One. What is the nature of the emergency?"

"Sheppard's been shot. We are on route to Atlantis now. ETA in roughly three hours. Have Carson standing by!" I answered her as succinctly as I could.

"Shot? I thought M5J-346 was uninhabited. What happened? How badly is he injured?" She asked in a slightly shocked tone. I could picture her brow furrowed with worry. Our team came back far too often with injuries which probably caused her many a sleepless night.

I wanted to reply that "I" had happened. I had neglected to double check preliminary reports that the planet was not populated. I had insisted we didn't need military backup on this mission. I had been too slow to move, and it was my clumsiness that forced Sheppard to take the only action instinctive to his nature and put himself in the path of the bullet. Yes, I had most definitely been the cause of this sorry mess. But I said none of those things when I answered. There would be plenty of time for the full story later when I submitted my mission report in the routine debriefing. Plenty of time for blame and guilt to be dissected and analyzed. I kept to the bare facts for now instead.

"How do I know? I'm a PhD, not a medical doctor! I don't practice voodoo. It's bad, okay? It's bad. He's bleeding, unconscious, and in a lot of pain. That's all I know. We ran into an unexpected difficulty with the local welcoming committee. Turns out the planet was not as deserted as we thought, and they didn't like visitors. The rest will be in my report later." I didn't mean to vent just then, but my fear and frustration came spewing out unbidden as I spoke.

"Okay, Rodney. Just calm down. Panicking won't help the situation. I have Carson and his medical team on alert and waiting for your arrival in the jumper bay." Her voice held only a trace of the underlying tension I was sure she felt.

Leave it to Dr. Elizabeth Weir to remain the calm in any storm. What else should I expect? The woman regularly chewed up presidents, dictators, and longhaired chemists, spit them back out, then had by-the-book, stick-up-their-ass generals as a side dish. It was her job to remain cool and collected when dealing with any contingency, and she did it well. She always held it together. At least in front of her staff.

"Sorry. You know how I react in a crisis. I tend to run off at the mouth. I am..um..just worried about Sheppard."

"I know, Rodney. We all are. I'm going to put Dr. Beckett on the line so you can get him up to speed on the colonel's condition." There was a pause as she transferred the call over to Carson's headset.

"Rodney, it's Beckett. Can you tell me a wee bit more about Colonel Sheppard's injury? Where is the location of the gunshot wound to begin with, laddie?" His brisk brogue was thick with concern.

"He was shot in the left side midway down his ribcage. I have a pressure bandage on the wound, but he's lost a lot of blood. I started an IV and administered one dose of morphine earlier. He's been conscious on and off. Right now, he's unconscious from what I can see from the pilot's seat. I also have him on oxygen, and he's covered with a blanket." I kept thinking it wasn't enough as I described to Carson what first aid steps I had taken so far. Not nearly enough.

"Aye, that's a right job you've done so far. Can you be telling me how his breathing is, son?"

"Ah, his breathing has been very labored and raspy. It probably didn't help that one of the local gunmen also kicked him in the ribs. Just before we made it back to the jumper, he was struggling to catch his breath to the point his lips were blue. The oxygen seems to have helped in that respect. Not much, but somewhat". I answered him back as best I could.

"Did you just say he was also kicked? Was it in the same area as the initial injury?" I could hear the anger in his tone at the brutality meted out upon Sheppard.

"Yes, yes. Of course it was, Carson. Did you think that psychopath stopped to ask where the colonel was shot so as to avoid further damage to that area? He got in several hard blows before I could distract him from putting the finishing touches on what his shooting buddy started." I shouted over the radio as the memory of the second attack on Sheppard caused my anger to return.

"Aye, and I'm willing to guess he managed to break a few ribs at that. Rodney, can you get me a blood pressure reading and give me the colonel's current pulse rate?" The Scotsman asked intent on getting as much medical data as he could over the radio.

"Hold on a minute." I put the jumper on autopilot so I could head back to the rear and check on Sheppard for the doctor. He was still unconscious and very pale. His pallid face was still covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The oxygen mask was becoming slightly fogged by his shallow breaths.

After taking the readings, I relayed the vital signs to Carson who did not appear happy at what he heard. Not that I was surprised. I'm no medical doctor and even I could ascertain that Sheppard's pressure was too low and his pulse too weak and thready to be a good sign. God knows how much he was still bleeding internally, and there was nothing I could do for about that for him. Absolutely nothing. Right about now, I almost wished my doctorate were a medical degree instead. I would give anything to know even a little of Beckett's shamanistic magic. I would gladly shake a few rattles, sacrifice a few chickens, and light the sacred ring of fire if it meant it would heal Sheppard. I have never been a religious man, but at the moment, I was even willing to pray to any deities or patron saints that might happen to protect Air Force fighter pilots with overblown hero complexes. My degrees in astrophysics just wouldn't be of any help here. Being a genius mattered not one iota. Not this time. All the brainpower in the world wouldn't amount to a hill of the finest Columbian coffee beans. Only a timely arrival, proper medical care, and a healthy amount of luck would help the colonel in this circumstance.

"Okay, laddie. You've done all you can for the moment. How long will it be until you get here?" Carson asked. I was willing to bet he was already counting the passing minutes.

"Roughly three hours. We are not near a stargate and have to fly the entire way back." Like I needed to be reminded how far we still had to travel.

I heard the doctor's heavy sigh over the radio as he replied. "Aye, not much we can do for that. But, Rodney, I would suggest flying that jumper of yours at maximum speed. I don't think I have to tell you that with an injury like Colonel Sheppard's, time is of the essence."

"You don't have to remind me, Carson. I am running these engines at maximum capacity as it is."

"I know you're doing your best, son. Keep me posted. I'll have my team standing by."

"Good, Carson. That is good to hear. I'll see you when I get there."

After Beckett keyed off his headset mike, Elizabeth came back on the line. "Rodney, we will keep this frequency open so you can keep us informed of any updates on the colonel's condition. Hang in there. We'll get you both home."

"Right. I'll call you if I need anything or if something changes. Jumper One out." I hit my headset to cut the transmission and went back to concentrating on flying us to Atlantis.

I knew both Carson and Elizabeth would be fraught with worry as they always were whenever a mission went awry. As usual, Sheppard was the cause of their worry. The man was a magnet for trouble and the reason so many of us on this expedition were plagued by premature gray hairs and worry lines. If the colonel continued to use up the nine lives allotted him at the rate he currently did, we all would end up looking like refugees from the Retirement Home for Wayward Intergalactic Explorers.

We were about two hours into our flight time when I heard muted groaning coming from the rear compartment as the colonel once again regained consciousness. I turned my head to look back where he lay and saw him begin to stir listlessly. Shoving the controls back to autopilot mode, I tore out of my seat, and hustled to the aft compartment of the jumper. Sheppard was rolling his head from side to side and beginning to thrash deliriously. Leaning over his restless form, I attempted to calm him down before he exacerbated his existing injuries.

He batted weakly at the oxygen mask, trying to move it out of the way so that he could speak. Pushing his hand away, I pulled the mask aside and noticed as I did his face was flushed with the beginnings of a fever. Great! A full-blown infection was all he needed on top of the blood loss and who knows what internal damage caused by the bullet. The day was just getting better and better. I swear Murphy was throwing his whole godforsaken book of laws at us. What else could go wrong? Did I even dare flip the bird at fate? Tell kismet to kiss my ass? Rage against the machine? What more did I have to deal with before I was done? I was not ready to let Sheppard go gently into the good night. No way. No how.

As soon as he was free of the mask, he whispered through chattering teeth, unable to stop his body from shivering. All of his muscles seemed to tremble even as he lay in rest along the length of the bench.

"So cold...I'm cold, McKay...it's freezing in here. I can't get warm. Think you can turn the heat up a bit?"

"I'll see what I can do, Colonel." Grabbing another blanket from the overhead storage compartment, I lay it on top of the blanket already covering him.

Tapping my headset, I patched in a call to Beckett. Not in the least surprised that the wily Scotsman answered almost immediately, I updated him on Sheppard's worsening condition.

"Aye, laddie. I don't like the sound of that. The colonel is probably going into shock from blood loss, and it sounds like an infection may be starting in the wound. I'll be wanting you to start a second IV and keep him as warm as possible. You won't be able to do much else until we can get him into surgery to stop the bleeding and administer a broad-spectrum antibiotic." Carson instructed after I gave him a new set of vitals.

"I already covered him with another blanket. I'll get the second IV started in his other arm." I replied as I grabbed the needed supplies from the medical kit. The colonel didn't even flinch this time when I poked his arm with the needle. Either he was too out of it to notice, or he was too weak to even care.

"Good, Rodney. Let me know if anything changes. I will see you when you arrive." Beckett said just before I acknowledged his reply and keyed my mike off.

I looked back down at Sheppard. His eyes had a glazed, unfocused look, making me wonder how much he was aware of his surroundings. I didn't have to be the resident genius to know he wasn't doing well. Hell, any moron would have been able to see that. I changed the blood-soaked bandage on his side, trying not to wince at the sight of the wound. Like I had told Sheppard earlier, I did not deal well with the spillage of copious amounts of blood, and did not want to pass out from the sight. Not that I would admit to the cause if I did. Not on your life. I would blame it on a hypoglycemic reaction before I would give the colonel the satisfaction of having yet one more thing to tease me about. I still have not lived down the incident with that energy-sucking, shadow creature close to a year ago. Sheppard has a very long memory. Surprising I know for a military goon, but there you have it. There were a lot of unexpected things about the colonel as I have discovered since coming to Atlantis. Least of all was that an action-figure, career Air Force soldier would choose to be my friend. But I have found since arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy, life can be full of surprises. Some of them good and some of them bad.

Grabbing his hand, I tried to offer him encouragement. "Hang in there, Colonel. We're almost home."

His eyes fluttered briefly as he murmured a faint reply. "Not going anywhere, McKay. Hope your landing's better than your take-off."

See what I mean? The man has a long memory. I answered him with a smug grin. "Oh, that's very funny, Colonel. Don't give up your day job just yet to do stand-up. Unless of course, you plan on using your comedic wit as a tactic against the Wraith. Slaying them with bad humor. Yes, that might just work. But have no fear, my landing will be smooth as glass."

I wasn't sure if he heard my answer, because he had slipped back into unconsciousness. After checking the drip on his IV's, I got up and returned to the cockpit. I still had an hour's worth of flying to do to get us home. I sat back down, gripping the controls tightly with frustration, and tried to fly straight and true along the course plotted by the navigation computer as I settled myself in for the remainder of the journey. The next hour managed to pass uneventfully as I monitored various sensor controls and periodically took a look back at Sheppard. He remained out for the count and unaware of the passage of time as we sped back home. Finally, the jumper was on approach to our familiar ocean-bound planet.

I never saw as welcome a sight as the tall spires of Atlantis jutting up from the surrounding ocean into the sunset lit sky. It had only been a three hour trip, but I felt as if it had taken years off my life. I couldn't help the audible sigh of relief as I made the final approach to the landing bay and steered the craft downward through the roof into the open jumper bay doors. The puddle jumper touched down, and I opened the hatch to a flurry of activity as Carson's medical team rushed in through the rear of the jumper to aid my wounded colleague.

I barely had a chance to get out of their way, before they had deposited Sheppard onto a waiting gurney and were hooking him up to various monitors and equipment. As I hurried down the ramp, I was met by Elizabeth who watched in shocked silence as the trauma team rushed the colonel off to the infirmary.

"Rodney! Is he still...?" She broke off as her voice failed her.

"Yes, for now. I hope we got him to Carson in time." I answered, not wanting to talk about what happened. Not yet. I only wanted to get down to the infirmary to keep an eye on my friend.

"What happened down there? Are you all right? Elizabeth asked as she touched my arm, forcing me to stop walking.

"I'm fine. Just fine. Look, I will tell you all about it later. Let's just get to the medical bay. I should have been there two minutes ago." I brushed off her questions and continued striding down the hall.

She fell in step along side me, silent once again, her face a stoic mask that hid her concern. We made it to the infirmary in record time, arriving somewhat breathless from the fast pace we set. We watched from the sidelines as Beckett ordered scans and various medications as they prepped Sheppard for surgery. Momentarily leaving his staff with the task of stabilizing the critically injured man, Carson approached us to quickly update us on his status. No sooner had Beckett turned away and was about to speak when the abrupt whine of the heart monitor interrupted him. The activity around the gurney suddenly increased tenfold as one of the medical technicians called out frantically.

"Doctor Beckett! He's crashing!"

(TBC)


	3. Fortune's Sons

Happenstance

Chapter 3: Fortune's Sons

"You have to make things so bloody difficult, don't you Colonel?" Beckett cursed before rushing back to the colonel's side, taking over from the other doctor working feverishly over their critical patient.

No, this could not be happening. Sheppard had a lot of nerve thinking he could check out like that after all I went through to get him here. Had I not said the man was inconsiderate? Did he not realize the worry this little stunt of his was causing the rest of us? What was the man thinking? Did he think he could be easily replaced? Did he feel he was that expendable? I didn't care what Kavanaugh thought on the matter. John Sheppard was certainly not expendable. Not in my book.

I felt Elizabeth's hand grip mine more tightly as we watched in shock as Carson rushed back into the fray, doing his best to save Sheppard's life. Neither one of us could tear our eyes away from the frenzied activity as we both tried to will the steady hum of the monitor to change back to the rhythmic beeping that signaled a steady heartbeat.

I honestly think my own heart stopped beating for a second or two when I saw Carson plunge an enormous needle into the colonel's chest. Thank god Sheppard was unconscious or he would have had a conniption fit over the size of that needle jabbing into his flesh. Those IV's he hated so much were nothing compared to this. My mouth went dry as I watched the doctor depress the plunger, forcing the vial's fluid contents into Sheppard's body before he continued chest compressions. Whatever concoction Carson injected seemed to have done the trick as his efforts were rewarded with the return of the blip of a normal heart rhythm on the monitor. Seeing that familiar sinus pattern wave across the screen, I released an audible sigh of relief as I too began breathing again.

Shit, I really needed to sit down. That was too close for comfort. Way too close. God almighty! If Carson wasn't as skilled a healer or Sheppard as stubborn a fighter, the colonel would be dead right now. How did Carson do it? How did he keep his emotions in check when a friend and colleague lay before him at death's door? How could he not panic at a time like this? How many times could he handle the challenge of bringing someone close back from the edge of the abyss at the last moment? How did Carson face this on a regular basis when Sheppard kept finding so many creative ways to push Beckett's medical expertise to the limit?

I don't think the good doctor needed that kind of stress. I know I sure as hell didn't. No wonder he had smuggled a case of scotch on the Daedalus during the trip back to Atlantis. Oh, so he marked the crate 'painkillers', but whom did that sneaky Scot think he was fooling? He let the cat out of the bag by insisting on handling that particular load of painkillers himself. Like he would be so concerned about the mishandling of Tylenol and morphine. Yes when Beckett finished getting Sheppard through this, I planned on hitting him up for a shot or two of that fine single malt stash. I don't think he would deny me after this day. I'd need something smoother than Zelenka's home brew, and Carson's contraband liquor would do nicely.

A sudden grip on my arm brought me out of my momentary reverie. Elizabeth was holding onto my arm, though at that point I had no idea if it were to offer support or draw strength from me. Either way, it served to focus my attention back to where the medical team was still working to stabilize the colonel before they took him into surgery. After getting his heart restarted, they had inserted an airway to assist his still labored breathing.

If viewing the previous procedures were not bad enough, I next got to witness the medical staff inserting a chest tube into Sheppard's side to release the trapped blood and allow his collapsed lung to be re-inflated. I have to say, it was not a pleasant experience. Sacrificing a chicken or two would have been a walk in the park compared to the blood and gore I had to see while watching Beckett and his staff in action. Did I not mention my aversion to the sight of blood? When Sheppard fully recovered, I was so making him pay for putting me through this. It would take years for him to fully compensate me for the stress he put me through today. So he'd better plan on living a very long time in order to make restitution. A very long time indeed.

Carson and his minions must have finished getting him prepped because suddenly they were whisking the gurney through the doors leading to the operating room. Before he followed his staff into surgery, Carson took a brief moment to update us on Sheppard's condition.

"We've got him stabilized for the moment. I'll know more once we get in there and assess the extent of the internal damage. I best be getting back to the surgical suite." Carson gave us a brief nod before turning to head through the doors where the colonel had been rushed a minute ago.

"Carson...Will he make it?" Elizabeth asked tentatively.

"I'll do my best, Lass." He looked up at me and his worried eyes and pursed lips told me more than I wanted to know before he turned to leave.

Watching his departing back as he strode through the operating room doors, I felt my chest tighten and my throat constrict. Damn Sheppard! He'd better not die on me. I had already lost too many colleagues in recent months from the small number of people that made up my circle of friends. The few that remained were all I had left. I was not the type to amass a large group of friends. Unbelievable, yes, but true. Being a nerdy genius two grades ahead of my contemporaries tended to isolate me in my youth so I never developed the talent for the social skills necessary to become popular. I was always the kid the others picked on unless they had needed the answers for an upcoming exam, or until they had discovered I could build working bombs out of supplies found in their parents' garages. After that, they were a lot afraid and a little in awe. Both caused them to maintain a healthy distance. So I grew up a loner with my brains and my hard-earned cynicism to keep me company. That is until Dr. Elizabeth Weir recruited me for this expedition.

Now since coming to the Pegasus galaxy, I counted among my closest friends a gruff Scotsman with a heart of gold, a little wily Czech engineer who wore many hats be it bookie, bootlegger, Kavanaugh baiter, or brainy scientist, and a brilliant, multi-lingual, take-no-prisoners diplomat who truly cared for all those in her employ. But the biggest surprise came in the form of one hotshot Air Force pilot gifted with a rare gene who was too curious for his own good. When he first displayed his hidden and until then unknown talent for turning on Ancient devices, I was all too prepared to dislike him. He had all the traits I would never look for in a friend. He was career military and quicker to act than he was to think. He was a real guns blazing, gung-ho adrenaline junkie. Or so I mistakenly thought. Underneath the devil-may-care, flyboy facade was a complicated individual. In time, I discovered he was a closet geek with a protective streak a mile wide, along with determination and loyalty that knew no bounds. And best of all, the man was able to match me snark for snark. No matter how many snide or caustic comments I tossed his way, he just took them in stride with a cheeky grin, giving back as good as he got. Honest to God no one had ever done that so easily before. Even Carson with his droll humor had sometimes cowered at first when confronted with one of my full-on rants. Not Sheppard though. No, the man never showed an ounce of fear when faced with the likes of me. He was either a very brave man or a very reckless one. The jury was still out with the verdict on that one.

Even more remarkable, this authority-bucking soldier actually understood me in all my wonderful complexity. No matter the glorious twists and turns my hyperdriven, caffeine-fueled mind took, Sheppard was right there to meet me at the pass, not only hanging on for the ride, but also offering interesting side trips along the way. The man was a mystery within himself--one I have yet to fully solve I admit. But all the unknowns of what made the colonel tick also made the journey of our friendship so vastly entertaining. Elizabeth might have been the heart of this mission and I the brains, but John Sheppard was its soul. Without him, something truly vital would be irretrievably lost.

I lost track of time as I stood there, physically tired and emotionally numb. I felt as if I were looking down a narrow, dimly lit tunnel, my field of vision focused only on the operating room door in front of me, the peripheral edges gray and blurred. Dare I say Sheppard was like the brother I never had? I wasn't ready to face the possibility of his death. He had already cheated the grim reaper several times before, so why not now? Why not now damn it?

"Rodney? Rodney!" Elizabeth's voice cut through the haze of my runaway thoughts.

"What? Did something happen? Is something wrong?" I stuttered in momentary disorientation.

"Are you all right? You look pale and a million miles away. Maybe you should sit down." She pushed down on my arm and bade me to sit in the nearby chair. "Should I get a doctor?"

"No, I'm fine. Sheppard was the only one hurt." I answered.

"You don't look fine. You look like you're about to faint." Weir's hazel eyes were full of concern as she studied me.

"Elizabeth, I told you I was fine. My blood sugar's probably just low. A bite or two of a power bar, and I'm good. Besides, I don't faint. Pass out from manly hunger maybe, but never faint."

"Look, it's going to be a long wait. Let me go get you something to eat. Carson will have a fit if you go into hypoglycemic shock while he's in surgery." She gave me one of her patented looks that broached no argument. You know that penetrating, raised eyebrow stare that lets you know she's giving you an order, and you'd better damn well follow it.

For once, I was too tired to contradict her, so I just nodded and waved my hand in compliance. If it took her mind off her anxiety about Sheppard and made her feel useful, so be it. Who was I to argue? Besides, it had been hours since my last meal, and what good would I be to the colonel if I went into a starvation-induced coma?

She patted my shoulder and offered me a wan smile before heading off to procure a quick meal to go. I leaned back in the chair until my head rested against the wall, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh as I tried to get comfortable for the long vigil ahead. I swear that these damn infirmary chairs had to have been designed by a sadistic chiropractor looking to drum up more business. You would think chairs in a medical environment would be ergonomically contoured to promote proper spinal alignment. But no, these metallic nightmares had no lumbar support whatsoever. Well, a sore back was the least of my worries right now. I wished it were my only worry.

My perception of time must have been skewed by the stress because if asked I would have said Elizabeth was only gone a minute. It seemed I had only just closed my eyes when I heard her clearing her throat to get my attention. Looking up, I saw her standing in front of me with a cafeteria tray loaded with food.

"Oh, you're back. That was quick."

"I was gone almost thirty minutes." She set the tray down on a small table next to the chairs and nodded towards the operating room doors. "Any word yet?"

"No, and I expect it will be awhile yet." My stomach began to rumble at the sight of the nearby food, reminding me it had been a long time since breakfast and the power bar I had on the planet. I looked over at the tray and pointed. "What did you get?"

"Some mashed potatoes, vegetables, meatloaf--don't ask me to guess what the mystery meat is--and chocolate pudding. Oh, and I got us both some fresh coffee." She handed me a streaming mug as I snagged the pudding cup off the tray. Ah yes, caffeine and chocolate, the food of the gods that kept us going in the science labs. I like to think of coffee as nirvana in a cup. I took a sip of the liquid energy, feeling its warmth slide down my throat.

"Thanks." I replied in gratitude as I wrapped my fingers around the mug filled with my own personal taste of heaven.

She half smiled in response before becoming lost in her own quiet thoughts. The two of us sat watching the doors before us, wondering what was transpiring just beyond them. I picked idly at the plate of food on the tray, but didn't really have much of an appetite. Strange for me I know, but even I at times could be off my feed. Gulping down the rest of the coffee, I slouched back down in the chair and once again leaned my head back for support as I closed my eyes and watched the events of the last few hours replay in my mind.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew someone was tugging my arm and insistently calling my name.

"Rodney, wake up!"

"Huh? What's the matter? What's going on?" I snapped awake suddenly and sat up in the chair I had previously been slouched in. Feeling wetness on my lower face, I swiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, surreptitiously wiping away the residue of drool. Damn, I must have fallen asleep with my mouth open again.

Elizabeth was nudging me in the elbow as she nodded towards the operating room doorway. "Carson's coming out. John must be out of surgery."

The two of us stood and rushed over to the doctor, eager for news on the colonel's condition.

"Carson, is he going to be all right?" Elizabeth beat me to the punch, asking him the question foremost on our minds.

"It was a bit close for comfort, I'll tell you that, but aye, I believe he will pull through." Beckett sighed as he pulled his hand through his hair. "The bullet hit a rib and deflected upward where it punctured his lung, and lodged close to his heart. He almost bled out before we managed to repair all the damage."

"That can't be good. Will he make a full recovery?" Christ, Sheppard had had a bullet near his heart, and I had been dragging him through a mile of forest. What had I been thinking? I could have hastened his demise if the bullet had shifted even a fraction of an inch during that jolting journey. Then again, what choice did I have? If we hadn't gotten back to the jumper when we did, he would have bled to death on the planet. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Well, it was a dicey place to have to extract the bullet, I admit. But the colonel was very, very lucky that the fragment did not nick the aorta. If it had, you would have never gotten him back to Atlantis in time to save him. We had a rough enough time as it was pulling him through the blood loss and shock." Beckett's eyes reflected the concern he felt for our injured friend.

"Can we see him?" I asked impatiently. Not that I doubted that Carson pulled off yet another medical miracle, but I needed to see for myself that Sheppard was still alive. My brain couldn't quite process the fact that John was going to be fine unless I saw him.

"Aye, but only for a moment. He's still unconscious and should be for a while. However, I will let you see him briefly. Come with me then." He beckoned us to follow him into the next room where his staff had settled Sheppard into an infirmary bed. He left us alone while he went to presumably give instructions to his staff concerning the colonel's care.

I tried to ignore all the equipment situated around his bed. It was disconcerting enough to see Sheppard lying so pale and still, his chest swathed in bandages, and his body attached to numerous wires connecting him to the various machines monitoring his vital signs. An IV line ran down one arm and a transfusion line was connected to his other, resupplying him with the life-giving fluid. I swallowed nervously as I watched the red substance slowly dripping from the bag suspended on a pole next to the bed into the line connected to Sheppard's forearm. I had seen enough blood today spilling out of the colonel; I did not want to see more flowing into him to remind me of how much he had lost.

I turned away from my examination of the transfusion bag to see Elizabeth looking intently at Sheppard's unconscious form, her eyes slightly misted with a telltale wetness. As if aware of my scrutiny, she looked away for a moment and blinked back the tears before returning my gaze. With a faint smile and nod, the professional mask was back in place, and her inner turmoil safely stowed until later when she could deal with the emotions in private.

"Hey, he's going to be fine. Beckett said so, and I've never known him to lie. Complain yes, threaten yes, but never lie." I tried to reassure her. "Besides, you know Sheppard is like a Timex watch. He takes a licking and keeps on ticking."

She smiled at that before becoming serious once again. "This time. But I worry someday he will walk out through that gate and not come back. One day his luck will run out."

"Someday, maybe. But that someday is not today. The truth is, none of us really know when our time is up. I've learned in this galaxy especially, it's best not to dwell on tomorrow. Just take each day as it comes and hope for things to work out in your favor."

"When did you get so optimistic?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and tilted her head as she pondered my words.

"Sheppard tends to rub off on people, whether you want him to or not. The man is nothing if not persistent." I replied truthfully. Sheppard did teach me to be more accepting of situations, of people, and of life in general. He taught me many things without even trying, things I hoped made me a better man and a better human being.

"That he is." She murmured softly as she gently placed her hand over one of his.

As we stood by the colonel's bedside, Beckett came back into the room to check on his patient. After examining the monitor displays, he jotted down some notes on the medical chart next to the bed before speaking.

"The colonel will be under sedation until morning. So off with you two for now. He's in good hands so don't be worrying your pretty heads about him. Go on now. Out. Out." Carson shooed us off with the promise we could visit Sheppard again later.

"Come on, Rodney. You can brief me on what happened on the planet in the meantime. We can come back after you've filed your mission report. " Elizabeth held her hand out for me to follow her as we left the infirmary.

I wasn't looking forward to writing up this mission report, but I best get it over and done with. It was time to face the music on everything that had gone wrong on M5J-346, a planet I never wanted to see again. I took one last look back at Sheppard's sleeping form, then sighed as I headed out the door after Elizabeth as she departed for her office.

I came back to the infirmary early the next morning. So early in fact, the rest of Atlantis was still asleep except for the graveyard shift in the control room and the nighttime medical staff. When Carson said I could come back in the morning, he probably meant around 7 or 8. It was 4:00 am, but that technically counted as morning, so I could use that as my excuse if Beckett attempted to keep me out of the sick bay. As if he would even try.

Sheppard was trying to win the record for most infirmary visits of any expedition member on Atlantis. Or so it seemed at times. I had racked up quite a few stays in the medical bay myself, but I couldn't hold a candle to our injury-prone soldier boy. Sheppard was a patient so often, I swear Beckett was going to start charging him rent on a bed. Suffice it to say, the doctor had enough past experience in the matter to know that whenever Sheppard was in his care, one of his team members would hold vigil. He now took it in stride that we would invariably take shifts by Sheppard's bedside, so that our friend was never alone. The Scotsman had long since given up trying to convince us to sleep in our own quarters. Besides, he slept on a cot in his office whenever one of us was injured or ill. To tell us not to do the same would be calling the kettle black.

Elizabeth had taken the overnight watch so I could get some sleep. Right. Like I would really rest while Sheppard was in intensive care. Who was she trying to kid? I tossed and turned, then spent the last hour pacing in my room. Finally, I had decided to give up all pretense of sleeping and came back here. I grabbed my laptop before leaving my quarters so I could do some work while sitting next to Sheppard. Commandeering the currently vacant chair, I settled into it alongside his bed. He lay surrounded by the clutter of tubes, wires, and machinery that were the tools of Carson's trade. The click-click of my computer keys and the steady beep of the heart monitor sounded abnormally loud in the relative silence of the darkened room.

Of course, the sound alerted Carson to my presence. The man had the aural acuity of a border collie. Such sensitive hearing came in handy when either herding sheep or checking up on patients from across the room. From what I could gather, both talents were second nature to our Highland healer. Hearing the husky, guttural noise of a throat being cleared, I glanced up to see a bedraggled, bleary-eyed doctor standing with his arms crossed, giving me a look that would make most people run for the hills in terror.

"Rodney! Just what do you think you're doing back here, laddie? Didn't you hear me tell you to go get some rest? Do you know what time it is? It's still the middle of the night and you should be sleeping like any other sane person is doing." Carson shook his head at me in exasperation as he barely stifled a yawn.

"It's 4:30. Technically, Carson, it's already morning. Albeit, it's very early I grant you, but it's still morning. And since you are awake yourself, I take it you're not counted among the sane population according to your aforementioned parameters of behavior, hmm?" I leveled my best 'so sue me' glare back at him.

"I am awake because your typing bloody woke me up, you daft bugger! Don't you ever sleep? Am I going to have to cut you completely off caffeinated beverages or do I have to resort to heavy sedation to make you stay in your bed for the night? I have large bore needles, and I know how to use them." He warned in a semi-gruff tone. The man was incredibly cranky when sleep-deprived.

"Yes, yes, I got some sleep. But now I'm awake, so I thought I might as well come back here and sit with the colonel. Good thing I did too, since it seems Elizabeth has abandoned her post." I replied as I pointed to the chair by the bedside.

"Because I finally convinced her that the colonel was doing just fine, and she wasn't helping him a bit if she were exhausted. She went off to bed in her own quarters two hours ago. Now there is someone who understands when it is wise to follow a chief medical officer's advice, unlike some stubborn people I know." Carson put his hands on his hips for emphasis.

"Fine. I will promise to get some rest a little later once someone else takes a turn at bedside vigil. Will that be satisfactory?" I asked, trying to get him off my case. Carson could show more tenacity on some issues than a bulldog guarding his favorite bone.

"Aye, all right. As long as you do get at least seven hours of uninterrupted sleep today, or I will be introducing you to the business end of a very large syringe loaded with the strongest tranquilizer in the dispensary."

"Okay, point taken. I just needed to see that Sheppard was still okay. I won't stay long." I promised him as I sat down again to resume my watch over the colonel.

"Right then. I will be holding you to your promise to get some sleep. I plan on doing the same." He quickly scanned the monitor readouts to check the colonel's vital signs before leaving us alone once again.

Before resuming my typing, I glanced at Sheppard as he lay still unresponsive amid the clutter of machinery. Although his face was more pale than normal, the dark circles had faded from under his eyes, and the EKG monitor displayed a regular and strong heartbeat. Intellectually I knew sleep was the best thing for his healing body, but psychologically I wanted him to awaken and assure me everything was going to be just fine. Carson had said more than once that even in the state of unconsciousness, comatose patients often were aware on some level of people conversing with them. So I spoke to my friend in the hope that he could hear me.

"I wish that you would plan on waking up soon, because this chair is killing my butt. Why is it that being in your presence always causes pain to that part of my anatomy? Oh, and Carson is threatening me with needles again. The man is sadistic. But what do you expect from someone who likes haggis? So if you want to save me from becoming Beckett's practice pincushion for his voodoo rituals, you'd better snap to it and regain consciousness." I muttered half to myself, not expecting a response from the prone form before me.

The slight movement of his hand against the sheet and a hint of flutter of his eyelids caught me by surprise. His eyes slowly opened as a soft groan escaped his lips. I called out to Carson to get back in here as the colonel gradually focused on his surroundings as full awareness sank in.

"McKay, is that you?" His voice sounded faint and gravelly as if it still hurt to speak.

"In the flesh, Colonel."

Beckett arrived back to the injured man's bedside, looking happy to see his patient awake and lucid. Taking out his penlight, he examined Sheppard's pupils and asked him a few questions to test his neurological responses.

"Ah, Colonel. It's good to see you awake. Do you know what happened and where you are, son?"

"Last I checked I was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. And this looks like the infirmary on Atlantis. Now can I have some water?"

"Good. Sorry to say, but ice chips will have to suffice for now, Colonel." Always prepared, Carson managed to have some at the ready and fed them to Sheppard, who accepted them gratefully.

"How are you feeling? Are you in pain?" Carson asked as he checked the drip on the IV line and jotted down the latest vital sign readings on his medical chart.

"Chest and side hurts like a son-of-a-gun. But considering I should be dead, I can't complain." Sheppard winced as Carson checked the drainage tubes snaking out from under the sheets.

Beckett nodded in sympathy as he injected some of his happy-juice into the IV port. "It's to be expected after being shot and having major surgery, I'm afraid. I'll be giving you something to ease the pain and help you sleep. That should be making you feel much better, son."

"Thanks, Carson." Sheppard closed his eyes briefly against the discomfort before opening them again.

"Aye, glad to be of help. I'll let Rodney see you for a bit longer, then you need to rest. You have a lot of healing to do, and listening to this bloody fool yap his mouth off will not be conductive to doing either." He shot me a sly wink over his shoulder before patting the colonel's shoulder and departing back to his office, no doubt to notify Elizabeth that the colonel had regained consciousness.

"Hmm, Carson has as bad a sense of humor as you do, I'm sorry to say. He just doesn't appreciate the words of true wisdom and insight that emanate from these lips." I said glibly as I pointed to my mouth.

Sheppard gave me one of his habitual eye rolls. "Whatever would I do without your infinite font of knowledge, McKay?"

I waved my hand in the air. "Probably languish in ignorance."

"Heard somewhere that that was supposed to be bliss." He replied as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

I adjusted the angle of the bed until he nodded in relief. "Bliss is overrated. Besides, I have seen my share of unhappy idiots. Look at Kavanaugh for instance. He is a prime example of a miserable moron if I ever saw one."

"Okay, I'll agree with you there."

Seeing how tired he looked, I was reminded how much he needed to rest if he wanted to make a full recovery.

"Well, you'd better plan on having a speedy convalescence. I would like to be able to get back to my lab so I can get some real work done. Who knows what havoc my underlings could be causing in my absence while I am busy playing nursemaid to you. If they blow up the lab, I am holding you responsible."

"Not to worry, McKay. Your lab rats are the least of your concerns. You're still the king when it comes to causing explosions and mass destruction." Sheppard whispered hoarsely. Even injured and drugged to the gills, the man felt it necessary to reply with a touch of sarcasm. Maybe I had influenced him as much as he did me.

"Ah, flattery will get you nowhere, Colonel. You'll wish you had my superior knowledge of bomb building the next time you are inclined to play demolition squad with the C4. Mark my words. You'll come begging for my assistance as usual." I retorted smugly.

"Speaking of assistance, you saved my ass out there."

"More like I was the one who got you shot in the first place. If I hadn't insisted we go it alone and we had brought more military back-up, maybe those locals would not have been so eager to use us as target practice."

"Not your fault, Rodney. You didn't force me to go against my better judgment and not take a couple of marines with us into an unknown situation. I'm the military head of this expedition, and I should have known it was a bad idea. I could have gotten you killed."

"Wouldn't have happened. Not with your disturbing tendency to jump into the path of discharging firearms. You took a bullet meant for me. As much as I am grateful for your need to be a hero, could you be a little less self-sacrificing for once?" I felt a lump forming in my throat as the memory of Sheppard throwing himself between me and the shooter flashed before my eyes.

Sheppard gave me an intense look before tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. "It's my job to protect everyone on Atlantis, McKay. It's what I do."

"Sometimes you take the meaning of your name too literally. The shepherd watching over your appointed flock. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. The law of averages will catch up with you." I admonished him.

Yeah, I guess I cut it close this time. Which reminds me, it was because of you that I made it off that planet alive. Thanks for watching my back, McKay. I'm lucky to have you on my team." The colonel's green eyes met mine as he lifted his hand off the sheet and reached over to grasp my own in a weak handshake.

I clasped his hand back and nodded back at him before releasing it. He dropped his hand back onto the bed and leaned his head down against the pillow, his eyes beginning to slowly close as fatigue overtook his healing body.

Watching him drift back off to sleep, I murmured to myself. "You got that wrong, Sheppard. I am the lucky one, for fate gave me a friend like you."

The End.


End file.
